


Claustrophilia

by operahousehomicide



Category: 1776 (1972), 18th Century CE RPF
Genre: Canon Era, Claustrophilia, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Smut, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 20:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10543772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/operahousehomicide/pseuds/operahousehomicide
Summary: In which President John Hancock has a headache after a long day presiding over the 2nd Continental Congress, and Richard Henry Lee has just the cure, featuring Msrs. Rutledge and Dickinson making an unplanned appearance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for the tumblr requests

Philadelphia, 1775. Independence Hall.

 

Summer was damnably hot in Philadelphia. The city was vile; rank with the filth that accompanied being a bustling port city, and the heat of the sun drew a foul stench from the water. The harbor had become much the source of disdain for one John Hancock. Although not as comparatively politically charged as Boston, it was the heart of the city, and the city itself had become something that Hancock very adamantly lacked a fondness for.

 

Luckily, or perhaps not, the seasons, along with the political climate, were beginning to change. The hot fire of summer had begun to fade into a desolate sort of ember, the autumn of both politics and weather draping across the land. The people were unhappy, and the eve of a long winter ahead reflected their sentiments. John Hancock was one of these such men.

 

His elected role as President to the Second Continental Congress had long since become the root of the weariness that had taken place in his soul. The general discontent of the country, and the constant disregard of his fellow Congressmen untowards each other had exhausted John. The man found himself idling at his desk after yet another consequently inefficient meeting, temples throbbing, fingers steepled about his face.

 

His head hung, and his brows crinkled, face drawn up in pain as the last of the Congressmen trickled from the chamber. Or, so he thought. John soaked himself in the delicious silence of the chamber for a long, sweet moment, before he was interrupted. His budding migraine flared slightly at the boisterous, as always, voice from the Virginian delegate.

 

“Long day there, Johnny?” Richard Henry Lee called as he bounded up the steps of the dais to the President’s desk.

 

Even Secretary Thomson had absconded for the evening, back to his little apartment, and John was left alone to face the brightly-clad delegate before him. Swallowing back a biting comment, and gentling the withering glare that had risen across his face, John sighed lowly and looked up.

 

“A long day indeed, Richard Henry,” He answered matter-of-factly, sheafing parchment together in an unsuccessful attempt to afford his desk the appearance of order.

 

Richard Henry’s broad grin immediately faded into a look of pity, and he settled on the edge of Hancock’s desk, fingers tapping away upon the clothed oak. He stayed quiet for another pregnant moment, then spoke up again. Hancock had managed to clear a space before him, enough to rest his elbows on the desk and prop his chin upon his interlaced fingers. His knuckles caved slightly under the weight of his head, and he closed his eyes as Richard’s voice sounded out in the chamber, unnecessarily loud.

 

“Gotta’ headache there, Johnny?” Richard stated more than asked, scooting up along the edge of his desk almost until his knee touched John’s elbow.

 

The President swallowed, but did not respond.

 

Richard bumped his knee to John’s arm.

 

“You know the best cure for a headache, now, dontcha’?” Richard’s voice, as honeyed as it had always been, dropped into a more of a conspiratory tone, and John’s gaze briefly flickered to the chamber doors, to ensure they were shut fast.

 

Upon ascertaining himself that they truly were alone, Hancock turned his eyes upon Richard Henry, and murmured, “Show me.”

 

Richard was in his lap before he could hardly take another breath, kissing him fiercely and knotting his hands in the fabric of John’s cravat. Hancock met him there, half-way, and drew him closer, hands alighting upon his waist. The noisy delegate casually straddled Hancock, knocking his quill and India inkpot aside in his haste to engage in contact with the President.

 

Hancock reached around him, righting the inkpot, then shifted back. Richard tugged at his cravat, loosening it sufficiently and breaking free from the kiss to suckle up a mark under the lip of his shirt collar. Hancock tilted his head back, complacent and lazy, and closed his eyes, allowing the sensations of Richard’s overly-ambitious nibbling to wash over him.

 

John almost didn’t hear the familiar voices of Msrs. Rutledge and Dickinson approaching, his own pulse loud in his ears due to both his pounding headache and the arousal sweeping through him. The pleased-as-a-peach drawl of Edward’s voice came floating through the halls of the Congress meeting hall, and John’s eyes snapped open. Dickinson responded in turn, and Hancock barely had the time to shove Richard from his lap before the latch of the door clicked.

 

Rutledge and Dickinson sashayed into the room, hip to hip, Rutledge giggling and Dickinson carrying a cat-in-the-cream expression on his face. Young Edward ignored Hancock’s presence, continuing to speak, but Dickinson gave a nod in his direction. Hancock inclined his chin in return, then averted his gaze to the space between his legs, where Richard Henry Lee had settled upon his knees.

 

The two Congressmen spoke on about something trivial as Dickinson collected some papers he’d left behind. He’d most probably been rushed out of the meeting hall by Rutledge, and the younger of them had had to been persuaded to return. Hancock watched them for a moment, but his attention was torn back away to Richard Henry.

 

Lee had very deftly begun to unlace the front of Hancock’s breeches. The President breathed out slowly, and very promptly scooted forward in his chair. Richard reacted casually, crowded under the desk, between Hancock’s thighs. He shifted again, peeling Hancock’s breeches down just enough to brush aside his underclothes and fish his cock out. Richard swallowed down the head of Hancock’s dick the moment Dickinson turned to address Hancock.

 

“Fine evening for some drinks, isn’t it, Mr. President?” Dickinson asked, leaning against the doorframe, papers in hand.

 

Rutledge stayed at Dickinson’s elbow, smiling that smug little grin of his. Hancock briefly thought perhaps Rutledge knew, then decided the Carolinian always looked like that. He nodded dumbly in response, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “That it is, Mr. Dickinson. I’m just finishing up some loose ends regarding the docket.”

 

“Very well, Mr. Hancock. A good night to you, sir.”

 

“You as well, Mr. Dickinson, Mr. Rutledge.” Hancock smiled at them, gritting his teeth a little.

 

Richard continued his work, and Hancock waited until the door closed behind before letting out a low hiss of a breath. Lee smiled, pulling off of his cock and making to rise, but Hancock growled and pressed him back down.

 

“I don’t think so. You can stay down there.” Lee flushed, grinning just as broadly as ever, and took Hancock’s dick back down his throat with practiced ease. “Damn harlot you are.” John mumbled, and he carded his fingers through Richard’s hair for a moment, then took a firm grasp of it.

 

He guided Richard to swallow him down, increasing the pace after a few moments and ignoring the fact that the thrust of his hips into Lee’s mouth must have made the crane of his neck awkward, what with how he was cramped under the desk. Hancock lazily fucked Lee’s Richard’s mouth, Lee lapping confidently under the lip of his uncut head, and teasing the slit with his tongue. He traced the vein along the underside of Hancock’s dick, then glanced up to meet John’s half-lidded gaze.

 

Hancock let out a harsh sound, teeth sinking into his lower lip to quiet himself, and promptly spent himself down Lee’s throat. Lee took his sweet time swallowing, maintaining eye contact as he did so. John shifted back in his chair after recovering, reaching down to tuck his spit-slick cock back into his breeches. He did up the laces, still panting softly, and patted at his thigh.

 

Richard Henry rose after a moment, knees creaking slightly, and settled back into Hancock’s lap. Hancock tasted his spend on Lee’s lips as he kissed him, running a soothing hand up his back and smiling a little.

 

“Headache any better?” Richard asked, voice a little rough from the abuse his throat had received.

 

Hancock snorted, but was a little surprised to realize that, yes, it was. Instead of responding, he just smiled ruefully and drew Richard back into another kiss.

 

 

 

 


End file.
